A Certifiable Murphy's Law Day
by Xenitha
Summary: Scully has the kind of day that makes you wish the aliens would land and put you out of your misery. Originally posted to Gossamer, but now posted here :  Please please please review!


From: Xenith

Date: Mon, 13 Mar 2000 20:21:09 -0800 (PST)

Subject: A Certifiable Murphy's Law Day (1 of 1)

Source: direct

Title: A Certifiable Murphy's Law Day (1 of 1)

Author: Xenith

E-Mail:

Disclaimer: The X-files belong to Chris Carter and

1013

Productions, not me. I'm only borrowing the characters

for

now. I'll put them back when I'm done.

Rating: G, darn it!

Category: HS

Keywords: Scullytorture, Scullyangst, Humor

Spoilers: None

Archive: Sure! Just tell me!

Feedback: Love it! Love it!

E-Mail address:

Discussion List: Yes! Yes!

Summary: Scully gets a chain letter and suffers the

consequences. Pure fluff, nobody dies, nobody hurt.

Just somebody a little pissed.

It all began with a chain letter. You know the

kind..."Send this to fifty of your friends or suffer

terrible disaster." When it came through my e-mail, I

showed it to Mulder, before I scornfully deleted it.

"You mean you aren't going to send it on to fifty of

your friends?" he asked innocently as he popped a

sunflower seed into his mouth.

"Of course not, Mulder. If I did a thing like that,

they wouldn't be my friends for long, would they?

Besides, I don't really believe that little Elbert

James in his hospital in Manchester really cares

whether people send him get well e-mails."

"Okay, if you're cursed it's your problem then," he

remarked absently, crunching another sunflower seed

and going back to his reading.

That was yesterday.

I went through four, count 'em four pairs of nylons

this morning before I gave up and wore slacks. Then

there was the unfortunate accident with the curling

iron. I trimmed the charred hair away, but it'll take

a hair stylist to even it out again. The blowdryer

stopped working and I ran of hair gel.

Then I broke a zipper on the pantsuit getting out of

the car at the Hoover Building.

I was late for the meeting with Skinner. I am *never*

late. My partner, Fox 'let's be casual about time'

Mulder is late for meetings. When I arrived, he was

ready to go, neatly dressed in black Armani suit with

tasteful red tie, folder tucked under his arm.

I could see him cringe when he saw me. He started to

say something, thought better of it, then nodded and

opened the door for me. I've got to say, Mulder has a

fine sense of self-preservation.

In Skinner's office, I perched on my chair, trying not

to dislodge the safety pin holding my pants together.

Skinner frowned in my direction.

"Agent Scully, do you have the notes on the Miller

case?"

The notes.

Oh My God. I left my notes on the roof of my car when

I stopped for gas and forgot it when I drove away. I

blanched and tried to come up with some excuse for my

incredibly irresponsible actions. Mulder took one

look at me and saved me.

"I have them here," he said smoothly. "What did you

need to know?"

As Mulder and Skinner discussed minutiae of our latest

crop circle case, I winced as, you guessed it, the

safety pin gave way and my zipper parted. Damn.

.

"Scully? Scully, meeting's over. You ready to go back

to the office?" Mulder was standing and looking down

at me with an expression of concern.

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, let's go," I said hurriedly and

clutched at the waistband of my pants through the

pocket of my suit coat. I scurried out ahead of Mulder

and was in the elevator waiting for him shortly.

He must have seen the look of grim determination on my

face, because he sounded nervous. "Scully, is there

something wrong?"

"Why should there be anything wrong?" I glared up at

him. Have I said yet that the fact that Mulder is so

much taller than I am irks me no end? Well, it does. I

get a crick in my neck trying to hold a conversation

with him.

"Um..just asking," he moved out of the elevator ahead

of me and into the office. Dammit, he didn't have to

act that frightened of me. So I'm in a bad, foul,

awful, rotten mood. How is that frightening?

I went to my work area (still don't have a desk) and

grabbed my purse, then excused myself to go to the

ladies room. Once there, I discovered the inevitable.

I had started my period and the zipper was definitely

broken.

Twenty minutes later, two pamprin, one tampax and

having stitched myself into my slacks I was ready to

start again. Bright. Smiley. Going to have a GREAT

day, Dana...

Damn him and that chain letter! 

**Mulder's POV**

I don't understand women. I mean, I don't think I do.

At any rate, some days Dana Scully completely puzzles

me. She's normally straight forward, y'know, logical.

And then there's today.

She got to Skinner's meeting looking like she hadn't

slept. Her hair was kind of tousled, like she hadn't

really done anything to it. Nothing wrong with that,

she's an attractive woman anyway. She looks good in

anything.

We went to lunch at the deli on the corner and Scully

was upset that the waiter misunderstood her order and,

instead of leaving off the mayo, gobbed 'double mayo'

on her sandwich. I generously offered to eat the

sandwich for her, but she just glared at me and took a

bite. And mustard squirted down the front of her

blouse.

Now how was that my fault? She seems to believe that

I caused this somehow. She kept looking at my new

suit resentfully. I only wore it because she LIKES me

in Armani.

And then, I mistakenly (oh, so mistakenly) suggested

that since she's having a Certifiable Murphy's Law

Day, she should call it a day and go home.

"A Certifiable...what?" she was too curious to be

irritable.

"A Certifiable Murphy's Law Day. That's my definition

for a day in which absolutely, positively anything

that can go wrong does, and at the worst possible

moment. On those days the entire universe is against

you. It sure sounds to me like you're having one of

those, Scully. I'd go home if I were you."

"There's no such thing as Murphy's law. These are just

coincidences. You make is sound as if...as if I were

cursed," she glared at me.

"Hey, you don't think it's that chain..."

"No. Mulder. It. Is. Not. That. Chain. Letter." Boy

she sure can enunuciate when she tries. "There is no

scientific basis for Murphy's law."

"Um, actually Scully, a couple years ago Mathematics

Magazine proved the existence of Murphy's law and did

a nice writeup on why you always have mismatched socks

in your sock drawer and why your checkout line is

statistically always the slowest..Scully, calm down...Scully?"

She was holding her weapon, not pointing it really,

just studying it closely as though admiring the grip,

the finish...

"Mulder, if you say one more word about luck I won't

be answerable for my actions," she said calmly, just

as I heard a 'popping' sound.

Her linen slacks gently parted and slithered down her

legs, landing in a navy puddle at her ankles. Navy

bikini panties. Nice. Good legs, too.

Scully just blinked at me, then looked down at the

pile of fabric on the floor. Then she calmly put the

gun down, pulled up her slacks, sat down at her

computer and opened the recycle bin on the computer

desktop.

"Mulder, this chain letter...what's the e-mail address

for the Lone Gunmen?"


End file.
